


Lovely Dark and Deep

by romanticalgirl



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curiouser and curiouser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovely Dark and Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [Twice Told Fandom](http://www.innergeekdom.net/Twice/index.htm) for this picture: [Cave](http://www.innergeekdom.net/Twice/11.jpg)

He doesn’t know much, only that he’s not supposed to be here. This isn’t supposed to be here. Not now. Not like this. The problem though, as it always is, is that it is all so inviting. Weathered rock worn white and gold, edged by soft green and surrounding the deep, cool, welcoming dark.

It’s almost too easy to walk inside. The walls are tilted slightly, just enough to shift perspective, make him question the ground under his feet. It moves as he moves, always changing.

He touches the rock inside, touches the black and the wet and wonders if it’s the dark or the stone that makes the color, which gives it its identifying shade, its marks. He feels like Alice in the rabbit hole, through the looking glass, topsy-turvy. Everything’s right and wrong and not quite as it should be.

He moves deeper, the distant sounds of the party growing fainter, this strange adventure marked only for him, unwelcoming to the strains of music and conversation. Instead, the voices change to the sigh of wind, to the soft murmur of falling water. He hears the chatter of rocks beneath his feet, rough against his shined leather shoes.

It’s too dark to see now, the hint of light from the door just a small square of memory. When he turns to glance back, it hurts his eyes with its stark brilliance, so he turns again to the soothing black.

The path bends beneath his feet and he follows it down. He can hear more now, a new kind of music that speaks of treasure and discovery of things hidden. He hears the discord of adventure, like a wrong note he needs to set right.

The ground shifts again and he stumbles, catching himself on the wall. His palm comes away wet, slick with the dark detritus from the surface and hot with blood, a sharp rock taking a bite from his skin. He imagines the blood leaves the wall darker, stains it blacker than before. He presses his palm back against it, leaving a streak as he goes.

The wind in the passage changes, warming, stealing the heat from his blood. He can feel it, feel it tightening around him and making it harder to breathe. He holds his breath in response, saving it up in his lungs until his head pounds, floating like a balloon above his neck. He breathes again when he can’t hold back any longer, drawing the thin, sharp air into his lungs and letting it cut like razors as he gasps.

Light dances in front of his eyes, flashing dark and then bright, spots flaring and fading like dying stars. He watches them extinguish like so many failed desires, aborted dreams. He blinks then suddenly, surprised to find himself back where he started, though the light of morning has surrendered now to dusk. He looks at his hands, nails caked with dirt and his pale skin painted with blood.

He’s ruined his shoes, blackened the white linen of his suit. He can hear the party again, the laughter and music, though it’s gone weak and tinny to his ears. He takes a step back and finds himself against the wall, sliding down stone and brick to the dirt path.

The light is dimming, but he can still see the dark outline of the entrance against the white like a splash of blood on linen. He was right in the beginning, he knows, sure of it now as the razor falls from his numb fingers. He’s not supposed to be here. Never was.

And now he’s gone.  



End file.
